


Always.

by Mintsea



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 4x18 fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Lots of tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:03:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintsea/pseuds/Mintsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Post 4x18. Contains Spoilers for Major Character Death. </b>
</p><p>Oliver finds himself at Felicity's apartment just a few hours after "Eleven Fifty-Nine".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Post 4x18. Contains Spoilers for Major Character Death. 
> 
> Oliver finds himself at Felicity's apartment just a few hours after "Eleven Fifty-Nine". 
> 
> _Everyone is a blubbering mess. Including me. Sorry guys, I wrote this one super quickly and it's had barely any editing. All errors are mine._

**Always**

by Mintsea

 

By the time Oliver realises where he’s going, he is too committed to the plan to worry about the reaction that awaits his arrival at Felicity’s door. 

He parks the SUV on the street across from Palmer Technologies and shoves his shaking hands into the pockets of his jeans, crossing the silent 3am street with a heavy heart.

He’s barely holding on, his eyes blood-shot and tired from the tears he shed both at the hospital and in Quentin Lance’s kitchen, clutching a lukewarm cup of coffee, his body aching from the strain of trying to keep everything - and everyone around him - together. He can’t believe it’s only been a few small hours since his conversation with Laurel…since those final moments…yet it already feels like an entire age has passed, like all of time has forced itself into those three small hours and his life has stretched on achingly bare, raw and lonely. 

Oliver is relieved to see the friendly face of Hal, a forty something black-suited night duty guardbehind the desk in the Palmer Tech Lobby, and he waits patiently for Hal to cross the brightly lit room and key open the glass door for him.

“Good evening Mr Queen,” Hal says with a small smile holding the door open wide enough for their conversation. Oliver notes the way he slips his foot into the door to prevent him from stepping through. “Is Ms Smoak expecting you?” 

Oliver shakes his head, hands still in his pockets nervously, as he stands on the sidewalk. He gives a self-deprecating shrug, trying to suck back the wall of emotions that are threatening to close in on top of him. “No, I…” his voice croaks, and he sucks in a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “No, she isn’t.”

Hal, who has known him for years, and often use to let him into the building at strange hours of the night when his insomnia was at a peak during his CEO days, gives him a sympathetic look. Truth be told, If Hal hadn’t seen the current CEO arrive only an hour or so earlier with the same devastated look across her face, he might feel a little less welcoming to the early morning visitor. Hal gives him a polite nod and steps out of the way to let the younger man in.

“Come in Mr Queen; I can’t promise anything, but I’ll phone her.”

“Thank you,” Oliver says appreciatively, waiting while Hal locks the lobby again and steps over to the security desk.

Hal picks up the phone, keys in the number for the private penthouse Ray had built during his refurb of the building and where Felicity had retreated to after their breakup, and they both wait with bated breaths as the phone rings.

“Good evening Ms Smoak, I’m sorry to disturb you so late… but you have a visitor.” Oliver watches Hal nervously as he listens to Felicity on the other end of the line. “It’s Mr Queen, Ma’am.” Hal pauses again, and Oliver feels like the colour must drain from his face, because Hal gives him a small reassuring smile before reply, “Thank you Ma’am, I’ll let him know.” 

Hal hangs up and smiles. “You can go up Sir.” 

*

Felicity is half way through the bottle of red and a box of tissues when Hal from Security calls, letting her know about Oliver’s arrival. She drains the glass as he explains the situation and slams her eyes shut as more tears leak from her already wet lashes.

“Thanks Hal. Please let him in,” she says through a throat of thick tears and wine. 

She waits for Oliver slumped against the door to her apartment, clad in pyjamas shorts and one of his old now tearstained t-shirts, her eyes closed tightly, counting breaths, trying to keep herself together. She hears the ding of the elevator through the door and counts the seconds silently to herself waiting for his knock. When it finally arrives, she feels her heart leap into her throat, and then her composure is gone. She flicks open the deadbolt with nimble fingers, despite the three glasses of wine she’s had, and finds him standing there choking back his own tears as he sees hers. 

Without a second thought she’s launched herself into his embrace in the hallway, like she had at the hospital, and he pulls his arms around her tightly, holding onto her like she’s the only thing left. She cries wet hot tears into the neck of his grey pullover, and he holds her against his chest, one hand in the back of her hair, his own tears out of control. His sobs shake her, wracking through her own body, and then she pulls back, her hands cupping his face, her eyes fixed on his for a moment, before she brushes her lips against his, softly at first, until she finds him responding.

She pours everything into the kiss; her sadness for the loss of their friend, her love for him that she can’t stop, and refuses to keep trying to now that their world is falling apart. They kiss for so long, Felicity feels like she can’t breath, and she breaks the kiss, gasping for air against his cheek. He ducks his head into the crook of her neck, and she runs her hands across the broad rise of his shoulders and into the back of his hair, tilting his head to brush her lips against his temple tenderly.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…,” she murmurs over and over into his skin, choking on her words repeatedly as she too continues to cry. 

It takes them minutes to recover, and eventually, once both of their sobs have died, Felicity realises they are still standing in the hallway. She palms his cheeks, moving his head from her neck and runs her fingers gently across his cheek wiping away tears. She holds him for a moment, watching as his face relaxes at her ministrations on his skin and then his eyes open, and the moment they make contact with hers, she knows she’s a goner. 

Her breath catches in her chest as she whispers, “ _Oh_ , Oliver…”

In an instant he is claiming her lips again, their next kisses wetter and sloppier from their tears, but full of heat, the type of life affirming passion that comes from loss. Despite having zero control over his emotions, a part of him finds a grip on the situation, and he pulls his lips from hers panting. 

“Can I stay?” he asks raggedly, the implications implicit in his tone. They both know he’s not asking for just tonight, although he does seek her permission on that too, but for forever. 

She brushes her fingertips across his wet cheeks, chewing a moment on her swollen lip. “Yes,” she says breathlessly, pressing her lips to his again. His hands slide down her lower back to lift her, and she jump a little, her legs wrapping around his waist, and he walks them into the apartment slamming the door closed behind them. 

  
*

He wakes to the loud monotonous tone of his phone and Felicity leaning across his chest to fish his cell out of his jeans beside the bed. 

“It’s Thea,” she says croakily.

“What time is it?” 

“5am.” She frowns. “That’s not a good sign.” She rolls into his side and hits connect on the call. 

“Hey Thea, everything okay?” Her brow knits almost instantly, and she sits up quickly, prompting Oliver to do the same. “Hey hey, slow down…slow down…breath. He’s here…” she flicks the phone onto speaker. 

“Thea?” Oliver says. 

“Ollie? Where are you?” Thea gulps, her voice full of panic. “I can’t stay here…it’s too raw…too hard. Laurel’s paperwork on Darhk is still on her desk and I…I can’t do it Ollie. I can’t be here."

“Thea,” Oliver says calmly, “its okay. You don’t have to stay there. I’ll come get you,” he says, throwing back the sheets of Felicity’s bed, and reaching for his clothes. “Pack somethings. Enough for a day or two and we’ll be there soon, okay?” 

“Okay,” she agrees, her voice so tiny and distressed, like when she was a scared little kid, that it has him moving at almost lightning speed. 

He disconnects the call and finishes dressing quickly, berating himself the whole time for not checking on her sooner. He’d been so focused on getting Lance home and getting a message to Rip and Sara, he hadn’t even considered how traumatic it would be for Thea to go home to Laurel’s apartment alone. 

He’s in the kitchen hunting for his car keys when Felicity emerges from the bedroom, dressed and trying to sweep her bed hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. She senses the mild panic he’s worked himself into over Thea’s call and moves towards him cautiously, like she’s approaching a spooked animal, gently pressing her finger to his forearm, as she sidles into his back. He stops, stills, and places his hand over hers, his thumb brushing against her fingers soothingly. She presses a kiss to his shoulder blade, before tugging him around to face her. She takes his hands in hers and squeezes his shaking hands comfortingly, before lifting them to her lips and placing a couple of soft kisses on his knuckles. He’s usually so steady in a crisis, so calm, and this is throwing her completely off her axis. 

“I dropped her home Oliver. I wanted her to come with me but she insisted on being in her own bed. I’m sorry, I should have stayed with her, but I didn’t have the heart to push her.”

He shakes his head and pulls her into his embrace. “You did everything you could,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His phone beeps, and it’s Thea. 

_Ready. Waiting outside._

“Are you sure you want me to come?” Felicity asks hesitantly. “I don’t to be in the way-“ 

“I can’t do this without you Felicity,” he says firmly. “And, neither can Thea.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, slipping her hand into his without further question and heading for the car. 

*

“She okay?” Felicity asks as Oliver appears in the doorway of their old bedroom at the loft.

It’s just after 7am, and while he’d help Thea settle into the guest room after a home cooked breakfast, Felicity had climbed into the shower. Oliver hovers there for a moment, and leans his tired frame in the doorjamb, watching her carefully in the morning light as it streams in from the windows.

“For now,” he says with a grimace. “The special aspirins worked a treat; thank you.” 

She gives him a small smile as she towel dries her hair while seated on the bed. 

“Thank John, he insisted I keep some for emergencies. Sometimes my legs are really restless from the implant. The special aspirins help.”

Oliver sighs heavily at the mention of John, and steps into the room.

“He’s completely devastated,” he says, sitting down beside her on the bed. “I mean we all are, but with everything that happened with Andy…” he scrubs his hands across his exhausted face, “I don’t know how to fix this.” 

“We’ll figure it out Oliver, we always do.” 

He nods solemnly, his hand reaching for her knee and squeezing it gently. She moves closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

“God I’ve missed you so much,” he breaths, nuzzling into her freshly washed hair. She frowns, her fingertips grazing the soft cotton of the comforter purposefully.

“You’ve been sleeping in the guest room haven’t you?” 

“This room reminds me of you too much. Of us,” he murmurs. “How did you know?” 

“This is my favourite comforter. I left it for you. Remember we bought it at that strange little homewares store around the corner from the bunker when we first moved in?” She looks up at him. “It matches your eyes.”

He smiles. “You told me that at the store.”

She laughs. “And do you remember what you said?” 

“Something inappropriate about not caring what colour the comforter is, as long as you were naked underneath it.” 

Felicity smiles and loops her arm through his as they sit together, exhausted but too wary to move in case it frees this moment of bliss together amongst the chaos and the grieving. 

“What are you thinking about?” she asks him, after they’ve been silent for a while. 

He squeezes her knee again. “About how I can’t do this without you. Thea. John. Lance. Me. I need you. I want you to stay. And I know we have so much to talk about-“ 

“I love you Oliver. And yes, we need to talk. But we don’t need to do that now. What we need is sleep.” 

He lets out a sigh of relief and wraps his arms around her, pulling her backwards onto the bed. Felicity snuggles closer to him, wriggling so her bare legs are no longer hanging off the edge. Oliver toes off his shoes, and pulls her into his chest, his arm stroking small soothing patterns from her shoulder to her elbow.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up right?” he asks sleepily, letting his eyes drift close. 

She nods relishing in the peace she feels being back in his arms. 

“Always.”

  
END.

 

AN: Look, I'm quite honestly dying over here. Leave me a note if you are feeling the pain as well. 


End file.
